Taste Test: I Took a Candy Corn Oreo and Put It in My Mouth


Maybe you’ve heard dark whispers of the Candy Corn Oreo. It’s a “limited edition” seasonal Oreo only available at Target—an Oreo cookie, see, but it tastes like a candy corn. Because god knows, there’s nothing the people crave more than fucking candy corn! I know my family and friends can’t shut UP about how much they wish all their non-candy-corn foods could taste more like candy corn. Good thing Target is on the case.

Hunting down the candy corn Oreos was…the most humiliating four hours of my life? First of all, it took four hours because I had to go to THREE TARGETS to find them. That’s three separate times that I had to walk up to a human being and say the words, “Excuse me, do you have the new Candy Corn Oreos?” And then the Target employee (specifically a surly teen, a surly teen, and an older Latina gal, in that order) looks at me and says, “……What?” and I say, “Candy Corn Oreos? You know, they’re Oreos…but…[SIIIGH]…they’re candy corn-flavored?” YOU SEE, SURLY TEENAGER, I NEED THEM FOR MY MOUTH TO MAKE THE CRYING STOP.

And then comes the worst part: “No. Sorry, ma’am.”

SORRY, MA’AM. As though clearly I need Candy Corn Oreos so badly that it warrants a “sorry.” Sorry, ma’am, our store isn’t carrying that fucking disgusting abomination of a cookie/candy hybrid, so you’re going to have to make a couple more stops before you can cry-chew them in the dark in front of a My Cat from Hell marathon. Sorry, ma’am. Sorry.

Anyway, I eventually tracked some down. (It involved a journey to a corner of Seattle so far from my house it was basically Oregon; and a Target saleswoman yelling across the store at me, “MA’AM? MA’AM? ARE THESE THE OREO CANDY CORNS YOU NEED?”) And then I went home and I ate them and I videotaped it for you. It was not good.

So, please enjoy my video taste test, in which the burning perfume of candy corn creme permeates my entire house, I peel the candy corn filling away from the cookie like an oily strip of clown jerky, my boyfriend makes fun of my disgusting manicure, and my soul liquefies and comes dribbling out my ear.

You’re welcome!

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